


Homecoming

by imagined_melody



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Army, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Fucking, Future Fic, Ian's back from the army, M/M, Overstimulation, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Soldier Ian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-03
Updated: 2013-07-03
Packaged: 2017-12-17 12:30:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/867577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imagined_melody/pseuds/imagined_melody
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Years in the future, Mickey and Ian- now in a long-term committed relationship- reunite after Ian comes home from a 10-month tour of duty overseas. Written for the last 2 days of Gallavich Week (themes: smut and future!fic).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> Oh hey, at some point I dropped off the face of the earth for the end of Gallavich Week! I had a bunch of different ideas for Day 6 and 7, but none of them came together in time to submit them. So I ended up working on this instead, which luckily fits the 2 themes I skipped over! Enjoy. :)

The morning of Ian’s return, Mickey was pacing. He couldn’t stop; he’d woken up from a much-interrupted night of sleep bursting with restless energy, and the hours between his waking and Ian’s flight coming in felt like decades. He tried multiple tasks and strategies in order to calm down, but it was impossible to focus on any one thing. In the end, he simply wandered around the house, scowling and feeling annoyingly edgy.

At eleven o’clock his phone rang. It was Lip. “Stop it,” Lip said before he even had a chance to say hello.

Mickey frowned. “Stop what?” 

Even through the phone, Mickey could practically see Lip’s eyes roll. “Doesn’t take a genius to guess that you’re pacing enough to wear a hole in your floorboards right about now. Relax, man. He’ll be home soon.”

Mickey shook his head, not even bothering to ask how Lip knew that. “Got any suggestions?”

“Fraid not,” Lip said on a laugh. “I’d say jack off, but I bet you’re saving that for when a certain someone gets home.”

Mickey let out a little stunned laugh; Lip’s sexual openness, at once crude and innocent, always slightly surprised him. He had to admit to liking the man, even though he had been incomprehensible to Mickey the first time they had met. “Well, thanks for the advice, anyway,” he retorted, snorting out a laugh. “I’ll definitely be thinking about it.”

“I’m sure you will,” Lip said, and his smirk was evident in his voice. “10 months, that’s a pretty long time.”

Mickey sighed. “You have no fuckin’ idea.” Sometimes he felt so frustrated he thought he would jump out of his skin. And it wasn’t just sexual frustration, although that was definitely a factor; he and Ian hadn’t even been able to have bad-connection phone or internet sex on a regular basis, since Ian never seemed to be able to speak to him in complete privacy and therefore couldn’t indulge himself. There was a greater, non-sexual frustration there too– years of Ian’s constant presence and affection had made him accustomed to the one-man support system, and he felt bereft without it. The past 10 months had been lonely and difficult, but strangely instructive; the solitude, combined with Ian’s at-a-distance support, had taught him how to tend to himself. For the first time in his life, he was healthily self-sufficient.

That didn’t stop him virtually itching for Ian to get home, though.

“Listen, dude, call me when Ian gets settled in, OK? Couple days from now, when you two are all reacquainted, make sure the rest of us get to see him, yeah?”

Mickey agreed, and the two of them ended their conversation. He managed to pick at some lunch, and at long last, it was time to drive to the airport. He got there 30 minutes early and proceeded to pace in ambling circles around the arrivals gate, trying as hard as he could to not check the flight board every 10 seconds (and, as the landing time approached, failing miserably).

The flight came in, and still Ian did not appear; he had warned Mickey that the wait to go through customs might be a long one, but that knowledge did not make the time go any faster. When passengers finally started to emerge from the gate, Mickey’s heart sped up so suddenly that he could feel his blood rushing through his body. He stepped quickly toward the receiving area, eyes frantically scanning the crowd.

And then he caught sight of him: a flash of red hair atop a slightly-more-tanned face that was so familiar that he could have conjured it perfectly into being from memory if such a thing were possible. Ian was walking purposefully through the entryway, dragging his suitcase behind him and holding his heavy-looking duffel bag swung over one shoulder; it looked like he had gained some extra items in his luggage since he left almost a year before. He looked tired from travel, but healthy and vibrant; the ruggedness of living in a remote foreign location had made him stronger, tougher (although he still retained that gentleness that was so characteristic of him). This much had been obvious in the video chats they’d had every few weeks, but to see it in the flesh caused Mickey’s heart to skip and his body to respond with genuine interest.

A few seconds passed, and then Ian looked up, his eyes going to Mickey almost immediately. He looked gutted for a second, as though the sight of Mickey after so long was too much to bear– and then a giddy smile spread across his face like wildfire. He moved toward him as fast as the burden of his luggage would allow, before dropping both bags and throwing his arms around his partner. Mickey buried his face in the warm skin of Ian’s neck, breathing in the scent of him– a new smell in some ways, redolent with the aromas of the village where he had been serving, but with his familiar scent still detectable underneath. Smelling it again made him feel at once relieved and possessive, and his fingers tightened in fists in the fabric of Ian’s shirt, pulling him as close to his body as possible.

Ian was muttering into his shoulder, “I missed you, I missed you,” and as discreetly as possible (since they were in public, and both of them were always wary of public displays of affection in full view of strangers) Mickey kissed whatever patch of skin was closest to his lips. 

“Welcome home,” he said in a voice almost shaky with emotion. “Missed you too.”

They went out to the car, Mickey carrying Ian’s cumbersome duffel bag so that the other man only had to navigate with the rolling suitcase. The minute they were in the car, Ian lunged for him, pressing their lips together so vigorously that Mickey thought it might leave a bruise. He made a muffled “mmf” sound but kissed back immediately, so drunk on the feel of Ian’s lips on his that it felt like finally coming up for breath after being too long underwater. 

Ian was practically vibrating under his hands, mouthing at him like he couldn’t get enough, and it was causing Mickey’s blood to run hot. With extreme reluctance he pulled them apart. “Home first,” he said when Ian whined and grabbed for him, trying to reinitiate the contact. He laughed a little at Ian’s eagerness, and the other man smiled in return. Mickey rewarded him with another kiss, a gentler press of lips that deepened to an open-mouthed brush of tongues. When he pulled away again to turn on the ignition and put the car into drive, Ian just sat there for a second looking stunned. 

“Damn,” he said, running his tongue over his sensitive lower lip. “And here I thought I’d memorized the way you kiss.” Mickey laughed again and placed a hand on Ian’s knee, rubbing his thumb over the kneecap as he pulled out of the parking space and headed for the highway.

They talked for a few minutes, but although Ian was restless at first (Mickey could tell when his partner was horny from a mile away), he quickly became tired when his initial urges were denied. Within twenty minutes he was dozing against the window; within thirty he appeared to be fast asleep. They were still over an hour from home, and as the drive went on Mickey felt his own exhaustion from his sporadic sleep the night before catching up to him. He struggled to keep his eyes open and his mind alert, grateful that they had turned off the highway onto smaller roads; he didn’t think he would actually fall asleep at the wheel, but all the same, driving tired at 40 miles an hour was preferable to doing it at 70. When they finally pulled into their own familiar driveway, he breathed a sigh of relief at the prospect of rest.

When Mickey turned the car off, Ian stirred; he started into wakefulness at the sound of Mickey’s car door opening. “We’ere?” he said incoherently.

Mickey said, “Yeah, we’re home,” and Ian opened his eyes further than the little slits he’d managed before. He took in the house, all the familiar sights of their yard, and a smile spread across his face. Then he yawned. 

“God, I’m tired,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “Jet lag is killing me.” He blinked more, clearly trying to wake up. They got out of the car, and Mickey beat Ian to the trunk and grabbed both the bags before the other man could do anything. Then they both tiredly shuffled indoors.

When the front door closed, Mickey dropped the bags, and they stood in the hallway for a moment. “We’re home,” Ian said, sounding incredulous. Mickey reached out blindly and found his hand, reveling in the feeling of having his partner within arm’s reach again. Ian clasped his fingers, and then shifted closer, wrapping his arms around Mickey and breathing in rhythmically against his chest.

Despite the fact that he was clearly tired, Ian soon began running his hands up and down Mickey’s sides, clearly heading towards something more as he inched closer to Mickey’s ass. Mickey made a low murmur, half interest and half protest; his body showed the same mixed signals, rocking towards Ian’s body at the same time as his hands reached out to still Ian’s stroking of his skin. Ian looked up at him questioningly, and Mickey explained, “You’re exhausted, Gallagher, and I’m not exactly doin’ a good job staying awake either. I’m afraid this is gonna have to wait.”

Ian made a small whining sound, and said with feeble insistence, “But it’s been so _long_.”

Mickey chuckled at his lover’s urgency, pulling him close. “Here’s what’s gonna happen. I’m takin’ you upstairs, and you’re gonna sleep as long as you possibly can. Then when you wake up, I’ll let you fuck me into the mattress.” He smiled mischievously. “Maybe more than once.”

Ian’s eyes dilated a little. “Promise?”

Mickey kissed his forehead in response. “You think I’m gonna be able to resist?” He could feel Ian smile, and knew that it was settled. “Now let’s get you to bed. You’re fallin’ asleep on your feet.”

The minute they got upstairs, Ian sank onto the bed like a man touching down on land after years at sea. “My _bed_ ,” he said in a voice suffused with relief. Mickey laughed low, sat down next to him on the bed, and ran a firm hand from the top to the small of Ian’s back, before using his strength to relocate him to his spot on the bed. Ian made a pleased sound at the contact and settled into the bed like he was made to be there, and Mickey sank in next to him, immediately curling up until his body completely surrounded Ian’s. He wanted to stay awake longer, relishing the feel of his partner’s familiar shape against him, but within only a few minutes he found himself nodding off, and gave up trying to resist.

\---

Ian woke up to the sudden awareness of Mickey’s mouth wrapped tightly around his cock, coaxing it to full hardness as he swallowed Ian down to the root. Ian made a choked sound and his fingers grabbed at Mickey’s hair, fisting in it so tightly that Mickey made a little whimper (not even remotely a bad one, though) and squeezed Ian’s knee in response. Then he continued working his lips over the now fully hard length, pulling more and more desperate sounds out of his throat. 

Normally during morning sex, Ian actually had more stamina than on other occasions; the relaxation and sleepiness slowed down his body’s responses, allowing the sex to last a long time. But it had been ten months since he had been so much as touched by anyone other than his own hand, and his desire overrode the natural pace of his body. He came embarrassingly quickly, in less than two minutes; Mickey swallowed everything, making a small surprised sound as the first wave of fluid hit his throat, not expecting Ian to come so soon. Ian shuddered through his orgasm, his muscles twitching and his breathing heavy, and Mickey kept his mouth on Ian until the last shreds of his release were finished, sucking gently until Ian made a thin sound and shook with overstimulation.

When Mickey tilted his head up to look at Ian, he saw that the man’s face was bright red, his eyes half-closed with embarrassment. Mickey peppered a few light kisses to Ian’s thigh, trying to draw him out a little. “The fuck are you embarrassed about?” he mumbled against his skin.

Ian sighed shakily. “Didn’t mean to come that quick,” he said guiltily, his fingers skimming over Mickey’s cheek, trembling as he felt the way his lips were damp with moisture from the blowjob. “Throwin’ a wrench in my plan to fuck you senseless.”

Mickey’s cock jerked and he groaned, rubbing it idly into the mattress. “Jesus,” he said with naked desire. “I think you should do that. I think if I really put my mind to it, I could get you hard again.” His gaze met Ian’s, and there was a twinkle there, mixed with the glaze of arousal.

Ian stared at him with equally dilated eyes. “Fuck, you’re not even gonna have to try.” Mickey smiled and deviously took Ian’s now flaccid cock in his mouth again, and Ian hissed and arched off the bed. He was still sensitive, to the point of pain, and the stimulation made every nerve ending flare up like a not-entirely-unpleasant fire.

“Wanna stop?” Mickey asked, letting him drop from his lips.

Ian shivered. “Just go gentle,” he said breathily, watching through lidded eyes as Mickey very delicately took the tip of his dick in his mouth and ran his tongue over the slit tenderly. He inched his way over Ian’s shaft, sucking lightly and teasing him for several long minutes until he began to fill again just barely. Then he released him, kissing the tip as he did so.

“Need your fingers in me,” he said, and his voice was a little gruff, which only served to turn Ian on more. “Can’t take it anymore, Firecrotch.” His hips had been moving in little unintentional twitches against the bed, his cock leaking precum into the fabric of his pajama pants to create a lewd stain. He looked flushed and wild. It was a visual Ian hadn’t had the privilege of seeing in quite a long time.

He pulled Mickey further up his body, and then used his weight to flip them over, pinning Mickey to the bed and making a small sound as their hips made contact and he felt the other man hot and eager beneath him. The friction was delicious, and he rutted helplessly against him until Mickey grabbed one of his hands, muttered “Fingers” insistently, and sucked two of them into his mouth to help. Ian panted next to him, his free fingers scrambling at the end table for the lube with whatever coordination he had left to offer as Mickey pulled his own pants down one-handed to grant him access.

Mickey’s mouth on him had gotten him started, and feeling the other man’s long-absent body against his had also worked to turn him on; Ian had no doubt that preparing Mickey would get him the rest of the way there. Already his half-hard cock was filling quickly, causing him to wiggle and feel warm and sensitive on the bed from arousal. Mickey released the fingers from his mouth and, while Ian was opening the lube, reached down to play with Ian’s cock until the other man batted his hand away. Then he grabbed Mickey by the hips and repositioned him until he was lying on his back on the bed, legs spread on either side of Ian’s hips, wide apart so that every part of him was visible to the other man. Mickey made a little high-pitched sound at the delightful roughness, the noise becoming a small keen when the first of Ian’s fingers entered him. 

“God,” Ian said, pausing with just one finger in Mickey’s ass as he stared at the sight with dilated eyes. “You have no idea how many times I got off just thinkin’ about doin’ exactly this.”

“Probably about as many times as I got off on it,” Mickey said in a breathy voice, squirming slightly as he tried to use his hips to get Ian to move. The comment caused Ian to smile, and he slowly started to move his finger, stretching with care since it had been so long since he’d done this. It was clear that Mickey was more than ready; he relaxed easily and intentionally around Ian, and when Ian’s one finger found his most sensitive spot almost immediately, he let out a loud “aah” sound and began to babble, “More, more, c’mon.”

Mickey had always been– well, not _bossy_ in bed, but vocal about his desires regarding position and especially pace. Ian knew that if he was begging for it like this, he really wanted it. Adding a little bit of lube, he pushed two fingers in and spread them slightly, doing only a minimal amount of stretching before wiggling a third in alongside them and aiming all three together straight for his prostate. Mickey cried out, and when Ian did it a second and a third time his hand came out to hold the base of his erection, stemming off an onslaught of pleasure that could so quickly drive him to orgasm. He shook on the bed, suddenly overwhelmed with the sensations coursing through him.

Ian stilled his fingers to minimize the stimulation, but kept talking low in Mickey’s ear, which he knew drove the man crazy. “Almost think I ought to make you come now, as a payback for bringin’ me off so quick this morning,” he said, the mischief in his voice making it clear that this would be far from a punishment. “Serve you right to come before I’m inside you, so you’d just have to hope for another one while you’re gettin’ fucked.”

Mickey’s lips parted in an _oh_ shape, and Ian smiled knowing that he was right on the brink despite the hand that was still curled tightly around himself to stem off the climax. His fingers twitched, even that much movement serving as too much stimulation, and he let out a shaky sound that showed he was almost crying as his cock leaked fluid, the sensation so close to coming that even the slightest thing could tip him over. Ian added his own hand below the base of Mickey’s cock, holding him so firmly it was almost painful, his other hand coming to much more gently pull his balls away from where they were drawn tight against his body. That was enough to pull him back from the edge; though he breathed loudly and squeezed his eyes shut with effort, he managed not to come.

“Whatever you do, I don’t think gettin’ me hard again’s gonna be a problem,” he said shakily when he felt able to speak again.

Ian smirked, but the deviousness of the expression was lessened by the powerful arousal in his eyes; he was more than hard now, he himself was aching. “Well, now I don’t think I want you to come yet. I’m enjoying this a little too much.”

Mickey surged up and kissed him hard, a little nip of teeth to his lower lip serving as an extra little burst of sensation, and said, “If you don’t get in me right now, neither one of us is gonna have much of a choice either way.” The heightened physical sensations had gotten him crying a little bit, Ian saw now; his voice was slightly wet, and a tear streaked down from his eye, a not-uncommon response to the overstimulation for him. Ian brushed it away, scratching fingers through Mickey’s hair to soothe and relax him. They often played this way in bed, pushing each other to the brink, and that kind of vigorous sex frequently came with as much emotional release as it did mindless pleasure. After such a stretch of time so far apart, this was going a long way towards getting them reacquainted, coaxing them to the limits of their endurance so that they would really find one another again. In some cases, run-of-the-mill sex just wasn’t enough. He knew Mickey wanted to feel him, really feel him, and Ian himself was overcome by a strange psychic need to bond with his partner. This was simply the way they accomplished that.

Mickey calmed; nothing was really wrong, he was just overcome with all of the physical and mental overload he was experiencing, and needed something to ground him. Rapidly Ian slicked up his hard cock and placed it at the entrance to Mickey’s hole, and Mickey exhaled in a long puff of air and ever so slightly opened around him. Ian pushed just the tip of himself in, and then paused; that alone was an overwhelming level of stimulation, and he moaned as Mickey clenched slightly around him in a twitching motion before relaxing a little. Mickey had made an appreciative noise at the initial sensation of being breached, but now his hips were canting towards Ian in little bursts, as though his body wanted more and couldn’t hold back from asking for it. As quickly as he dared (and could handle), Ian slid deeper and deeper, until he whimpered at the feel of his balls coming flush against Mickey’s bare skin.

Mickey was glistening with sweat and seemed overwhelmed, but his expression also spoke of incredible relief. Ian leaned in to kiss him, a hungry smashing of lips together that he himself had missed fiercely, and then slammed into him, rocking him back into the bed. Mickey cried out in what could almost have been mistaken for pain, but everything in his body combined to draw Ian further in, so the other man knew his roughness had not been met with a negative response. He proceeded to put all his energy toward plowing Mickey into the mattress, listening to the loud cries coming from him and feeling more and more turned on by the slap of their skin and the sound of their bodies hitting the mattress. Finally Ian bit his lip, tightened above Mickey, and muttered, “Gonna come, gonna come, gonna come...” before driving home in a powerful thrust and spilling himself into Mickey. Mickey groaned beneath him, his body trembling with the feeling of fluid hitting the walls of his entrance, and when Ian kept moving inside him even as he was coming, Mickey suddenly clenched around him and found his release too, fingers digging into Ian’s back to pull him against one particular spot as he convulsed on the bed. 

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Their breathing was so loud that it filled the room, and both of them were so dumbfounded by the force of their passionate reunion that they could not find the words to speak. Finally Ian said, “Damn,” but it came out in a hoarser, higher-pitched voice than he had intended. Mickey laughed and said, “Yeah,” and whined when Ian slipped out, grabbing him and guiding the mostly flaccid cock back in. He went in easily due to Mickey’s relaxation and the combination of lube and come lining his hole, and despite the fact that Ian was now so oversensitive that the reentry was almost painful, he let himself be pulled back in, resting inside Mickey as the man grew accustomed to the feel of him again.

When he slid out a second time, some minutes later, Mickey made no effort to redirect him. Their breaths had evened out, and they simply lay against one another, memorizing the feel of their bodies and how they fitted in each other’s curves. Mickey looked so incredibly sated, and the sight made Ian’s heart feel warm and pleased. He too felt incredible, the two orgasms combined with the fact that Mickey was near him again making him blissed out and high on the endorphins coursing through his system. He was aware that he was probably grinning dopily; the suspicion was confirmed when Mickey idly tilted his head up to look at him, then smiled happily and pressed a long, tender kiss to the bottom of Ian’s jaw, a simple gesture of affection.

“You know my bunkmates told me I talked in my sleep sometimes,” Ian said offhandedly when he was done sucking a sore spot into Mickey’s skin. Mickey responded with a lazy “Mm-hmm,” slightly turned up at the end as if a question. Ian had talked in his sleep before, on infrequent occasions; it was mostly muttering and very little of it made sense, but it was not random or humorous enough to be worth listening to. When he did it, Mickey usually shushed him with either words or a kiss; Ian invariably would quiet to an acquiescent murmur and be silent again.

“Sometimes it was just noise, apparently, but every once in a while...” Ian traced gentle fingers over Mickey’s chest. “He said sometimes I’d be telling somebody to go to sleep, or I’d talk about where I’d put something in the house. Once he thought he heard me say ‘I love you.’” Ian looked up at him with naked emotion in his eyes, and if Mickey hadn’t understood his meaning before, he did now. In a little village thousands of miles away, Ian had been talking to _him_. In his half-asleep state he had imagined Mickey near, had carried on bits of conversations with him. Even when they were apart, they behaved like they were together– and Mickey realized he too had left space for Ian around the house all those months, had moved and sat and arranged his things as though to accommodate for a second person, although the man was far away. After so many years, they did not act like two individual entities. They were two halves of the same person.

He pulled Ian in for a kiss, and the other man made a sound that was half need and half contentment, the kiss a relaxed and luxurious thing. There was no rush to get out of bed, and no one was expecting them anywhere, so they alternated for a few hours between making out and talking, reacquainting themselves without the interference of an unreliable internet connection between them. Then, in the late morning, Ian made good on his promise to fuck Mickey more than once.

They had been in such a rush the first time that Mickey had barely taken any of Ian’s clothes off at all, and as they kissed and Mickey’s hands explored the planes of his body, it occurred to him that he hadn’t yet seen Ian naked since he’d gotten home. Already he could tell that his physique was different– more toned from the physical exertions of military life– but what he felt with his hands he now longed to see with his eyes. So he made eye contact with Ian, and as he did so his fingers curled around the bottom of his shirt. Ian gave him a slight smile and let Mickey help him out of it, wriggling out from under the covers as well, until all at once the full sight of his lover’s body was visible to him.

Mickey smoothed his hands over the expanse of skin beneath him, making a low approving sound that caused Ian to smile shyly and squirm under his gaze. The man was more tanned than Mickey had ever seen him; the hot climate abroad had managed to overcome even Ian’s pasty Irish complexion. He was firmer, too, and he looked well filled out. Mickey felt himself swell at the sensation of Ian’s body under his hands, and Ian noticed his reaction; he gave a little surprised huff of laughter and said under his breath, “Well, that’s flattering,” and Mickey grinned and leaned down to kiss the warm skin of his chest.

“Like you like this,” he murmured as his lips grazed over Ian’s arm. “It’s sexy.”

“It’s probably not going to stick around, so enjoy it while you can,” Ian told him. His voice was coming out significantly breathier than it had before.

“‘S’okay,” Mickey replied, knowing he would feel the same appreciation for the old Ian as he did for this toned new version. As long as it was Ian, it didn’t matter. 

He let his lips travel all over the place, paying extra attention to his neck in spots where Ian was notoriously sensitive, and then traveling down and down and down. When he smoothed his palms over the strong muscles in Ian’s thighs, the other man whimpered and arched his hips slightly, his body begging for attention in areas very near that region. Mickey complied, shifting Ian so that his legs were spread and resting on Mickey’s shoulders and the space between them was more accessible, sliding a pillow underneath the small of his back to tilt him upwards a bit. Ian gasped, clearly having expected the attention to be paid to his cock, and seeing now where Mickey was actually headed.

The first hard swipe of a tongue to his hole made Ian keen. He made an aborted attempt to buck up into the wet sensation, but managed to contain himself in time, squirming restlessly on the bed instead. Mickey reached over with one hand to hold his hips down, and Ian responded immediately to the pressure, allowing himself to be subdued. He was delightfully responsive, maybe even more so than he had typically been before their time apart– now that they were reunited, he seemed to be feeling every bit of contact wholeheartedly. It made Mickey want to take him apart, to push and push him to the limit until he couldn’t take any more. He made a low sound, almost a growl, as he fought his desire to do just that. Ian would let him– they had done that on many occasions, and loved it– but now was not the right time, as tempting as the thought was.

Once Ian was no longer moving on the bed, Mickey made more deliberate movements with his tongue, passing in firm strokes over his hole again and again until he finally aimed carefully and pushed just the tip of it in. Ian groaned and trembled beneath him, his breathing going strained, and Mickey soothed him with gentle motions of his fingertips even as he pushed his tongue in a little bit deeper. Rimming had never been his favorite thing to do– he could only do it for a short time, since there was no comfortable angle for it and it made his jaw ache– but he was determined to make it as good as possible for the moment. 

Ian sighed above him, and Mickey cast his eyes up to look at him, even as his head remained resting between the other man’s legs. The Gallagher boy was looking at him with an awestruck expression. “Feel like I’m dreaming,” he said simply, and Mickey knew exactly what he meant: after months apart, being together felt unreal, like something too good to be true. He kissed Ian’s thigh, knowing that such little gestures of affection never failed to relax him, and then before Ian could react, leaned up and took the man’s achingly hard cock in his mouth. “Jesus Christ,” Ian exclaimed, his fingers clutching at the crumpled sheet next to him, and Mickey smiled as widely as he could around the erection filling his mouth. He didn’t suck him off properly, just kept a couple inches in his mouth, tongue darting across the hot skin until Ian whimpered and said, “Gonna be too much in a second.” Then he pulled off and settled on his elbows to look at Ian.

The man was panting on the bed, his cock now lewdly wet and beading with precome, so hard it looked almost uncomfortable. His eyes were dilated, fist still clenching and unclenching in the sheets, and if he looked closely Mickey could see the wet trails of moisture from the other places his mouth had recently been. He suddenly became aware of his own hard cock pressing into the mattress, and took a second to rub himself fitfully against it before Ian made a dissatisfied sound and pulled at him with his free hand.

“Let me,” he said, and Mickey replied, “God, yes” and grabbed the lube again, handing it to Ian. He wouldn’t need as much– Mickey would be relaxed and pliant from the last time they’d done this-- but he still slathered a good amount on his fingers and prepared him with haste, knowing that fingers were not going to be enough to satisfy Mickey in this situation. Mickey bit his lip as he watched Ian stretching him, allowing his body to open up when Ian needed more access. 

When he finally lined himself up and pushed in, Mickey threw his head back, and Ian noticed him wince slightly; after the way Ian had pounded into him during the last round of sex, he wouldn’t be surprised if Mickey was already a little sore. He continued to push gradually in, knowing from years of experience that stopping would only make Mickey more uncomfortable; he preferred to acclimate himself to the intrusion of penetration when Ian was all the way in than to have it happen in stages, which were gentler but prolonged the burn. When their hips were settled against one another, he paused to let Mickey breathe, running the palm of his hand over the man’s flank and feeling his muscles twitch as he got used to the sensation. Mickey looked overwhelmed, but not in pain, and when he experimentally flexed around Ian, he seemed comfortable enough; he made a pleased sound and rocked a little more deliberately against his partner, inviting him to thrust in earnest.

It lasted longer this time, their lovemaking. Ian kept finding himself transfixed by the way Mickey’s body moved, so much so that after a few minutes of his distracted thrusting Mickey laughed, pulled his head down for a filthy kiss, and then rolled them over so that he was sitting atop Ian and straddling his hips. Ian had slipped out with the change in movement, but Mickey simply grasped him and guided him back in, shifting his hips until he was fully seated on the other man’s cock and then riding him with more intent. Ian had to admit that this position was a lot better. Not only was Mickey able to get Ian deeper inside him and take control of their movements, but Ian got a magnificent view of his partner’s body. He watched Mickey until the flood of sensations became too much, and then he screwed his eyes shut and came powerfully, shuddering on the bed beneath Mickey. After a few seconds he reached out and circled his fingers around Mickey’s cock, aware that the other man had not yet come; within a minute he saw the waves of pleasure peaking on the younger man’s face, and then his hand and stomach were coated with the sticky evidence of his release.

Mickey collapsed onto Ian’s chest, breathing against him and dampening his skin with the combination of both of their sweat. The position opened him up a little, and a small tendril of come leaked out of his hole; Ian swiped his thumb across it, and Mickey whimpered. “Too sore?” Ian asked, looking at him carefully.

Mickey shook his head. “Just enough,” he said, smiling contentedly. They kissed, and when they parted he said against Ian’s lips, “Gonna feel it for a while, and that’s just what I want.”

“Thought I was gonna go out of my skin if I didn’t get back soon,” Ian said, thinking back on the last month or so of their separation, how difficult it had been to know his return was so close and yet not to be home.

“You’re here now,” Mickey said against the skin of his temple, and Ian wrapped his fingers around whatever part of the man he could reach– an elbow, a hip– and exhaled with the relief of it. This was home. He could breathe again.

**Author's Note:**

> Just wanted to take this opportunity to say THANK YOU to the creators of Gallavich Week, for organizing this whole thing! As I mentioned in one of my submission posts, I've written more words of fanfic the past 2 weeks alone than I have in most months. So thanks for reigniting my writing flow!


End file.
